


so your carefully applied makeup can smudge

by wormhourdeluxe



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Boners, Dry Orgasm, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gentleness, M/M, Wingfic, akaashi is a bit of a minx, preening, this is somehow a lot more fluff than i meant for my PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:20:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24624628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wormhourdeluxe/pseuds/wormhourdeluxe
Summary: Bokuto always relied on Akaashi. Sometimes, he wanted to show the other he could take care of him too.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 25
Kudos: 249





	so your carefully applied makeup can smudge

There was nothing like the sweat and soreness that came from practicing for hours. Bokuto wouldn't give it up for anything–– except maybe the shower afterward. It was annoying having to gel his hair back up, but he was going home anyway, and this late in the day it was only him and––

"Ah, Bokuto-san, your feathers..."

Fingers gently grazed across the top of his right wing. He could immediately feel the ruffled feathers shuffle back into place under that touch, making him sigh in relief as a small bit of the growing itchiness settled. It was easy as anything to lean into that touch.

The hands stilled. "Bokuto-san," Akaashi repeated.

"Yeah, Yeah," huffing with laughter, Bokuto flopped onto the bench. Akaashi patiently waited for him to splay his wings wide, flapping once or twice and flinging lingering droplets of water everywhere, before he sat behind his captain. Instantly, there were hands buried in his coverts. Bokuto fought to contain the familiar twitch as fingers tweaked at his feathers, brushing each one smoothly back into place.

It would be impossible to twist enough to watch. That didn't mean Bokuto couldn't easily imagine it; Akaashi's fingers were so long and careful, pressing into his feathers. Bokuto could see Akaashi's familiar and determinedly focused face behind his eyelids–– eyes sharp where he dragged his pretty hands through dusty feathers. Could match every practiced move with the image of Akaashi in his mind. They had done this so often, how could he not?

He shivered pleasantly as Akaashi moved inwards towards his tertials, thumb just barely grazing where his axillary feathers blended back into his skin. They were sensitive, but Akaashi was nothing but efficient and quick. His hands were skilled enough that he never lingered long enough to be uncomfortable (though, Bokuto doubted that would ever make him uncomfortable, not when it was Akaashi).

Still, the familiar warmth and ease of the movements made him relax. His energy finally began to melt away under that practiced touch. Nails gently scraped delicate skin, combing between feathers and removing that constant little discomfort he had carried all through practice. The light touch was always so soothing, after playing for so long.

Bokuto couldn't help the loud groan that twisted out of him as Akaashi switched to his left wing. Careful not to knock into the boy behind him, he gently fluttered his right to catch cool air under clean feathers. It was immensely satisfying to feel them all fall exactly the way they were supposed to.

"Careful." His voice, always quiet, was almost raw in the silence of the locker room. A cool hand settled delicately between his shoulder blades, the base of Akaashi's palm gently pressing on top of neatly smoothed axillaries and overheated skin. "Don't undo my work."

He thought about feathers ruffled and disarrayed, caked in dust and sweat. Feathers snapped from slamming into the gym floor. A volleyball spiked into fluttering primaries.

He thought about Akaashi sighing, and bringing his pretty setter’s hands and pretty face and pretty  _ everything _ and touching him with them, and wondered if that was such a bad price to pay.

“Your feathers are rising. What’s wrong?”

_ You. It’s you. Not that you’re wrong—! You’re anything but wrong, but— Akaashi you’re killing me— _

Bokuto laughed nervously, squirming under Akaashi’s razor sharp attention. “J-just nervous for our next game!” _Among other things._ _Most of which include you. And you touching me. Please keep touching me._

Deft fingers paused before snapping a final primary into place. Bokuto practically vibrated in place trying to pick between sighing from relief or whining in protest.

He settled on the third option. Ignoring it entirely.

“Thanks, Akaashi! You’re the best!” Bokuto blurted out, jumping to his feet and spinning around. Akaashi didn’t even raise an eyebrow. He only made a small humming noise in acknowledgment. To Bokuto's relief the setter had already turned, eyes thankfully not catching on the heat Bokuto could feel lingering in his face. He reached for his bag, forgotten on the floor, and Bokuto allowed his eyes to trail over the familiar curves of Akaashi’s body. The lines of his shoulders, the curve to his jaw. The warm, rich chocolate brown of his wings where they settled delicately against his back.

Akaashi’s feathers never seemed to be ruffled. Even when Bokuto stepped out of every game a mess, the setter was always seemingly three steps ahead in terms of neatness and order. His feathers remained sleek and shiny. Barely a single covert out of place. Granted, Akaashi was never a very physically demonstrative person— hell would freeze over before Bokuto thought he’d see the other be a quarter as emotive in body language as himself. No excited flutters, no bristling raised feathers, no spread primaries in victory. 

He wasn’t the only one, of course. None of the team could match the same intensity as Bokuto, but even they had every so often fallen into the manic energy of a game enough to open their wings to the sky.

Not that Akaashi was closed off. It wasn’t as if Bokuto hadn’t seen him unfold before. Not often, of course, but Akaashi wasn’t shy about letting his wings loosen from his back. Even now, they draped loosely, the tips of his outer primaries just barely grazing the floor. A clear display of trust that made him want to slightly vibrate out of his skin. 

“Hey Akaashi,” Bokuto started, and stopped. He hadn’t even meant to bring it up. But now that he had, he may as well finish it: “I want to preen you too.”

Akaashi froze. Barely a second passed before he seemed to shake off whatever thoughts he had, ears flushing pink even as he turned blank eyes on Bokuto. “I’m... fine with that,” he said, voice unfaltering. “But I’m... my wings don’t really need any extra help.”

_Yeah, they’re just as perfect as the rest of you._ _I still want to do it. I really want to touch you._

_ You touch me all the time! _

The pink spread a little further. Bokuto watched, fascinated, as Akaashi’s entire face began to slowly darken.

“That’s true,” he said, voice strained oddly.

Bokuto blinked.

“You... do need a lot of extra help preening,” Akaashi murmured. “You don’t seem bothered by it.”

_ Oh. I said that out lo—  _ Bokuto flushed bright and hot, forcing his body not to curl in on itself. He still felt his primaries brushing his elbows. “I-I’m not! I’m  _ not, _ I could never— I trust you Akaashi!” How could he not? Akaashi was— he was  _ Akaashi _ . The epitome of trustworthiness. Bokuto had done it again and again, trusting him, and came out of it weak kneed every single time with the memory of cool fingers between his feathers and prints branded on his skin— “I just... we’re  _ teammates _ aren’t we? You’re my setter! You’re— you’re my friend. I just think— well, I don’t know!” It was getting hard to think. His thoughts were spinning out of control, hot like a flash fire with embarrassment and indigence and something salty-sweet. “I’d just... don’t you want me to?”

Akaashi trusted him. Of course he did. What kind of setter would toss to someone they didn’t trust? Preening  _ was _ meant to be intimate, even if the team did it for each other all the time; maybe Akaashi didn't want to see Bokuto that way. Maybe Akaashi just thought he was too gross to touch his wings. He was always pretty sweaty after practice, and he was much rougher with his hands than Akaashi's careful touch. Too rough, too weird, too overenthusiastic.

It would make sense that he wasn't wanted.

Bokuto could feel himself wilting. His wings curled in around him, chin dropping against his chest. How could he forget himself? Of course someone as reliable and cool as Akaashi wouldn't want whatever stupid  _ help _ he could offer––

A touch to his skin. Bokuto jumped Akaashi's hands brushed his feathers aside, fingers curling around his shoulders firm enough to brand him. “I trust you,” Akaashi said. “I’ve always trusted you, Bokuto-san. I wouldn’t mind if... well, I’m fine with it if you want to try… Even if we both know I don’t need it.”

None of that registered beyond the warmth flooding Bokuto's whole body, curling into his fingers, his toes, every individual feather.  _ He trusts me. He wants me to preen him. He wants me to touch him too, I— _ Bokuto snapped his wings tightly to his back before they could do something stupid like lifting him off the ground and through the roof. “Hell yeah! Really?!  _ Really?!  _ Yes, I want to—!” _ ––take care of you too, for once. _

(To return the favor. To reach out and touch, to allow the tips of his fingers to actually meet soft, milk chocolate and beige browns. To have Akaashi turn his back on him because he _ trusted him to help. To take care of him.)  _

Bokuto rolled his shoulders to hide his shudder, every feather practically vibrating from excitement. "Now?" He rushed out, bounding in place. It was a struggle just trying not to accidentally knock them both over. Akaashi wouldn't appreciate being bowled over no matter how much Bokuto wanted to just wrap the other up in his wings– "Now? Right now?!"

Akaashi kept his eyes on his hands, stuffing his gear into his bag. His ears glowed red. "Not right now," He said. "We've stayed long enough as it is."

"Then at–" Bokuto stilled, his heart on the verge of bursting. He was just going to start ripping his hair out if this continued, "–at your  _ house–" _

_ "You can preen me tomorrow." _ Akaashi forced out. He froze. A tiny, choked noise squeaked out of him and Bokuto watched in awe as his friend's face turned a slowly darkening pink. "...You can  _ help _ me tomorrow. After practice. My inner secondaries tend to get a little mussed."

_ You? Mussed? _ Akaashi was  _ never _ messy. Even with sweat dripping off his skin, hair free-flying on the court, and shirt rucked up against the gym floor... Akaashi seemed untouchable. 

"You're too awesome, Akaashi," Bokuto said, far quieter than he intended. Akaashi was quiet enough already, it was Bokuto's job to be loud and colorful and heartfelt for him! He deserved to hear he was awesome  _ all _ the time. "Way too cool! Does that make me even cooler, if I preen you?" Now that would be super. As if he could suck the awesome off Akaashi and be even more awesome himself. He would be the coolest ace alive, totally unstoppable–!

_ "Bokuto-san." _ Bokuto twitched when the hands left his shoulders, only managing to not whine when long fingers instead clamped over his mouth. His brain almost melted at the sight of Akaashi's face so close, cheeks fiery red and eyes sharp. "You don't have to keep saying it," He reprimanded. "Just be patient until tomorrow. I know you can."

_ I know you can. I know you can. _

Bokuto couldn't help the grin that split his face apart, nor the way his wings darted forward to cage his brilliant setter in just the slightest bit closer. Akaashi didn't like to be touched as much as he did, but he wouldn't mind just a  _ little _ hug, right? He was already touching Bokuto, so––

"Bokuto-san...!"

"You're the best, Akaashi!" Bokuto chirped, tugging him into his arms. Pillowy upper coverts rubbed against his forearms, the sensation almost raw against his bare skin.  _ So soft...! This is the best…! _ "I can't wait for tomorrow!"

Akaashi melted against him, his soft cheek grazing the side of Bokuto's neck. 

_ Nevermind,  _ this _ is the best–– _

"Of course, Bokuto-san," He said quietly. His hands carefully pulled away from where they had been pinned to his shoulders, settling almost tentatively against his skin. Bokuto squirmed a little at the feeling of his fingers pressing into the dips of his hips, startling himself with the shiver that sent up his spine. "I... I'm excited too." His thumbs rubbed tiny circles into Bokuto's skin, slow and gentle enough for him to be hyper-aware of how the callouses there dragged against his bare––

Bokuto jumped back, heart in his throat. "Y-yes!" He almost shrieked. "Yeah! Y-yeah, yeah, o-o-of course, yeah! I'm excited too!" Backing up was a terrible mistake. At least with Akaashi's face pressed into his shoulder, he couldn't  _ see _ it. There was no way to avoid it now, no way to distract from how those eyes pinned him in place, no ignoring the way his eyelashes framed his stare or the way his lips just barely quirked, the way he was  _ smiling _ at Bokuto the way he rarely did––

_ "Haha! Ha! W-we should get home before it gets dark!" _ Bokuto managed to choke out. He flung himself across the locker room to grab his discarded shirt and bag. "Co-Come on Akaashi! W-We should–– should––"

He made the second mistake by turning to meet Akaashi's eyes. He was still smiling. At Bokuto. "Coming, Bokuto-san."

Bokuto slammed face-first into the lockers.

* * *

It took everything Bokuto had to focus on the game the next day. Every pass of the ball, between Akaashi's fingers, just drew his eyes straight to his back. Every run-up for a spike was spent with his eyes unfailingly pinned to his setter. Bokuto would have liked to say that it didn't affect his play– he was looking at Akaashi all the time anyway!

"Bokuto-san." The ball was midair. Practically being sucked into Akaashi's outstretched hands, as if it craved for him to touch it. Bokuto could definitely relate. Couldn't do anything but relate, in fact, as his body instinctively fell into a run towards him.

Akaashi's gunmetal eyes swept and caught onto his in the practiced speed of a nanosecond.

Bokuto tripped over nothing and flung himself headfirst into the net.

"Bokuto-san!"

"Woah!"

"C-Captain!?"

Bokuto flailed a little, wings snapping open to catch his fall. All he managed to do was buffet the net, sending himself sprawling across the gym floor and barely avoiding crushing his feathers under his back. 

_ "I'm okay!" _ he called out immediately. No use worrying his team even more. What kind of captain was he?! Even the most tactless first year would be aware enough to avoid running directly into the net, could he not do anything right?!

A quiet wheeze was huffed out from somewhere near him. Bokuto opened his eyes to see milk chocolate feathers scattered across the floor.

"A-Akaashi!" Bokuto leaped to his feet, teetering unsteadily on his toes as he frantically registered the familiar form that had been trapped under one of his wings. "Akaashi! Akaashi?!" The other boy was much slower to sit up, blinking blearily up at Bokuto. Alarm bells screeched in the captain's ears. Instantly he was on his knees, hands clapping over Akaashi's cheeks to tilt the other's eyes up into the light. "Akaashi! Are you okay?! You don't have a head injury, do you?! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to––" Panic was beginning to make his voice shrill, nerves fraying the longer Akaashi blinked up at him without responding.  _ "D-Doctor!  _ Akaashi needs a doctor!"

A cool hand laid on his arm. Bokuto, realizing how he had been cradling his setter, nearly released Akaashi from the shock alone if he hadn't been the only thing holding him up. "Bokuto-san," Akaashi finally said. His fingers tightened around Bokuto's bicep. "I'm fine. You don't have to worry, I'm fine." His eyes looked clear. His pupils dilated properly in the light. No signs of more than a couple budding bruises, under his clothes, shirt rucked up around his ribs from the fall and hair messy– Bokuto's eyes widened when he saw the state of Akaashi's wings. Feathers in disarray, primaries out of place and coverts dusty.

"You're  _ not _ fine!" He just about wailed.

Another hand on his arm. The gentle pressure stilled the trembles he hadn't noticed were starting up. It was weird, but watching Akaashi's answering eye roll made him feel slightly better. "You're overreacting," He murmured steadily. "I doubt I'll even bruise. You did a good job catching your fall."

"R-really?" Bokuto couldn't help the rush of warmth that gave him. It flushed through him like a summer breeze, lifting all the feathers from the tips of his wings to the base of his spine. "You're not hurt then?"

"He looks fine." Bokuto jumped, nearly smacking Konoha with his wings when they snapped upward. The other boy didn't bother to do more than sidestep out of the way, expression unchanging. "I don't think he's hurt, but maybe you two should sit out for the rest of practice."

Akaashi blinked. "Both of us?"

"Both of you." Shirofuku sauntered over from the side of the court. "I saw that fall, Bokuto-kun. You haven't been able to pay attention at all today, have you?"

"Ah––"

"You heard her, Bokuto." All four of them looked up at their coach as Yamiji stepped over Akaashi's splayed legs, calmly checking both vice-captain and captain over before nodding. "Neither of you have been focused today." 

_ Neither–? _ Bokuto's eyes snapped to Akaashi before he could stop himself.  _ Akaashi has been off today? _ He didn't seem affected. His tosses felt the same. He was the same unflappable and collected person Bokuto expected. Akaashi squirmed a little. Just a tiny twitch of his hands, fingering pressing and curling together; his ears tinting pink. 

Bokuto blinked. 

Coach was still speaking. Bokuto snapped back to attention before he could get scolded–– by the look on Yamiji's face, he wasn't missed. "...I'll let you off now to work off whatever's bothering you, but I expect to see the both of you working double next time."

"Of course," Akaashi replied smoothly, and Bokuto floundered in place.  _ Leaving? Leaving practice? _ Things were happening a little fast, could he not even say anything? "Let's go, Bokuto-san. We need to change." His setter swept past him back towards the locker room without a single twitch in his expression, gait as steady and composed as always.

Bokuto, lost and a little dazed, stumbled after him.

The door shut behind him. "Why did you say that?" He asked, unable to help himself. Akaashi didn't turn to face him, heading straight for the benches to pull off his knee pads. "You're not actually hurt, are you? Do I need to take you to the nurses after all?!" He carefully looked the other over again. Akaashi showed no trace of pain on his face, but as he watched him sit and pull at his shoes his arm awkwardly pulled as if the movement was uncomfortable. "You  _ are!" _

"Not enough to need that kind of help."

Bokuto stared, bewildered. Akaashi finally wrestled his pads off, sighing quietly from relief before caging Bokuto in with his gaze. "My arms are kind of sore," He said slowly, patiently, "I can't seem to reach my back. Would you mind helping me, Bokuto-san?"

_ Would you mind helping me? _

_ Helping me? _

_ Akaashi wants my help? _

Akaashi raised a brow when Bokuto failed to function beyond gaping at him. He twisted his body and swung a leg over the bench to face Bokuto, wings unfolding towards him in a clear  _ come here  _ motion.

Bokuto short-circuited.

"Y-you– here?  _ Now?" _ He squeaked out. Akaashi's lips twitched upwards and he blushed, coughing to clear out the strange sudden tightness in his throat. “You really want me to preen you?" He knew they had agreed on it the day before, was excited about it–  _ is _ excited about it– but it was one thing to think about and another to have Akaashi perched in front of him, wings open and spread and lying in wait for Bokuto just  _ get his ass in gear already, why are you just  _ staring _ at him–– _

Akaashi's cheeks faintly pinked. His eyes were steady on Bokuto's face, unwavering and certain. "Please," He asked.

His legs moved. Far faster than he meant to move, he walked directly into the space molded by Akaashi's wings, barely stopping in time to avoid outright straddling Akaashi's lap. Akaashi blinked up at him. So close, Bokuto could actually see for once as his composure flickered, brow twitching into a tiny crease of startled nervousness. "Oh," He said, and it escaped like a breath pressed firmly out of his lungs, "You... want to do the insides first?"

Bokuto's heart was going to fly directly out of his mouth if he dared to meet Akaashi's eyes any more than he already was. Trying to distract himself, he braced himself on the bench–– his palms touched Akaashi's spread thighs and immediately flung away again as if scalded. Immediately he waited to be scolded but there was silence. Akaashi wasn't moving. 

_ Did he even notice? _ Bokuto slowly put his left hand back down. Goosebumps lifted under his fingertips where they just barely grazed the curve of Akaashi's knee. When nothing happened, he delicately pressed his palm down. Akaashi did nothing but watch as he slid his hand up, the tips of his nails edging under the end of Akaashi's shorts braced himself properly. He swore the tiny flush to his setter's cheeks was darkening.

"If that's okay," Bokuto finally remembered to reply. It was too late to go back even if he wanted to. Somehow, he felt that if he stood up it would shatter something so unbelievably delicate–– and it terrified him. "Only if  _ you're _ okay with it."

Meeting Akaashi's eyes remained a death sentence. Bokuto willingly embraced it. It was almost too much, staring his best friend in the face when he so easily said  _ "I trust you, Bokuto-san." _

_ Oh God. Oh God. _

Bokuto reached out and buried his right hand in the wall of feathers next to his face.

_ “...hnn.”  _ Bokuto froze, hyper-aware of how the feathers shifted against his fingers. That one touch seemed to lift all the feathers along the underside of Akaashi’s wings, allowing his fingers to sink fully between the spaces until his nails grazed skin. The tiny sound that escaped Akaashi was all that managed to make him tear his eyes from the other's face— he couldn’t afford to even look at the way his lips parted to breathe in sharply, or the sharp twitch of his eyes— Bokuto's fingers curled reflexively and dragged a clump of loose coverts free.

_ “Oh!” _ Akaashi gasped. His legs jolted, almost dislodging Bokuto's hand. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting it to...”

“When was the last time someone else preened you?” Bokuto asked quietly. A tremor was beginning to start in his hands, shaking something loose and fragile all the way back in his chest. “who was it?”

Akaashi’s thigh twitched under his palm before tensing. Bokuto allowed his thumb to start kneading a clumsy circle into the flesh, hoping it was soothing. Even Akaashi had to get nervous sometimes, right? After all, Bokuto was nervous. So, so nervous. “No one,” Akaashi breathed out. “Just my mom, and that was—“ his jaw clicked shut when Bokuto dragged his hand through his secondaries, careful fingers shifting through his coverts and pulling stray feathers back into place.  _ “Ah, _ that’s...“

_ Holy shit. Holy shit. This is— how is–– why is this hot. _

“You’re so  _ sensitive _ ,” Bokuto managed in awe. “Have you been preening alone for years or something?!” He tugged at a stubborn feather, gently prying it loose and trying (and failing, and failing, _ oh god he was failing,) _ to ignore the way Akaashi shivered under the ministration. His heart was going to explode. Something else was going to explode too, if Akaashi didn't stop making that breathy little noise when his face was so, so impossibly close––

"My wings are– are not as––" Akaashi swallowed, eyes flickering to Bokuto's hands when he began to move closer to his axillaries, the muscles in his thigh jumping as Bokuto leaned more of his weight in on it. "––My wingspan is, is not as impressive as yours, Bokuto-san." The words made something flighty and warm in Bokuto become rapidly brighter. Like a canary fluttering against his ribs, singing loudly at Akaashi's praise. "I can usually–  _ ah!" _

He jerked violently. Bokuto was forced to stop with the tips of his middle and pointer finger barely grazing the base of his wings. In all his moving he had failed to register how  _ close _ his preening had carried him; until Akaashi was all but forced to hold onto him, wings straining to allow Bokuto to reach the delicate down that melted the underside of his wing into the expanse of his back.

_ I still have the other wing to do. And the backsides. _

Akaashi was outright trembling under his hands. His feathers vibrated like leaves in the wind against his fingers.

Bokuto gulped.

"I'm sorry," Akaashi finally bit out, his hands flexing out of their fists to instead tentatively twist into Bokuto's shirt, "I didn't intend to react like that. If this is making you uncomfortable–"

"It’s not!" Bokuto blurted out, face fiery red. "You're not making me uncomfortable at all!" Exactly the opposite, if he ignored that he was quickly becoming half-mast in his shorts.  _ Oh God, don't let Akaashi notice– _ "I-I can keep going. If that's-- if you're okay with it."

“...Maybe do the other feathers first.”

_ Best for last, _ Bokuto thought, and immediately wanted to throw himself through a window.

Moving away from Akaashi’s inner axillaries, tucked delicate and fluffy against the winglet holes in his shirt, was hard. Switching to the left wing was next to impossible. Now that Bokuto had gotten a taste of what was happening, he was unable to ignore the way Akaashi squirmed under his touch. Primaries were easy, secondaries were okay. He could visibly see Akaashi straining to stay quiet, and still, and composed. His thighs pressed tightly together when Bokuto's thumb gently pressed underneath his coverts. The hands attached to his shirt had somehow traveled from his chest to his sides, tightening and loosening into the fabric in a way that made his nails almost ticklish against Bokuto's ribs.

Bokuto hoped desperately that he couldn’t feel his heartbeat underneath. He was starting to breathe heavily just nearing those fluffy little merging feathers again—

“Hey, hey Akaashi,” his dark eyes were becoming glazed, pupils dilating when he looked up at him. Bokuto’s entire mouth turned dry as a desert. “Can you take off your shirt? I can’t reach.”

_ Traitor. Traitor, _ he screamed internally,  _ I fucking h— _

“Ah.... yes, alright Bokuto-san.”

_ —love you so much?! _

Akaashi slowly leaned back, detaching just enough for Bokuto's front to move. His pretty, long fingers were borderline pornographic curling around the hem of his shirt. A brief little glance. Gunmetal blue eyes peering at him through full lashes.

Bokuto was going to explode. He was going to explode right there and now from his setter being unfairly sexy. How did this happen to him? He was a good man, a kind man. One of the top five spikers in the nation.

He watched, transfixed, as Akaashi gracefully shimmied out of his shirt, not a single feather catching on the winglets. None of Bokuto's own awkward fumbling and flapping. A single smooth motion that made his abdomen flex, remaining sweat from their practice sliding into the dip of his collarbone.

“Is this better?” Akaashi asked him.

_ This is how I die. Thank you God. It’s been good. _

“Yeah,” Bokuto breathed out, “...way better.”

Without even thinking, without even breathing, his hands darted out and caught Akaashi around his waist. The tiny gasp that forced out of him almost made Bokuto want to cry. Or scream. Whichever would make his heart not collapse in his chest just yet. There was no move to stop him at all from tugging his setter into his lap. 

“Now I can reach you,” Bokuto chirped as brightly as he could manage, “let me know if I miss a spot!”

The answering  _ “gladly” _ went high and oddly pitched when his fingers dug into fluffy down. Akaashi arched up into his hands, chest almost bumping into Bokuto's, and he instinctively hooked his chin over Akaashi's shoulder to keep him still. Accidentally, he grazed over the tendon between neck and shoulder and Bokuto could  _ feel _ it jump under his lips.

His face was going to burst into flames. Actual flames. Unless he melted first. It was one thing to have to watch Akaashi react in front of him and  _ another entirely _ to  _ feel _ him trembling against his throat. Trying to focus, Bokuto raked his fingers through Akaashi's axillaries, determined to finish quickly. The long whine that was bitten out of Akaashi made Bokuto uncomfortably aware of his own problem–– namely the one inches from Akaashi's ass. He really should have thought ahead instead of just yanking the other into his lap, what if Akaashi  _ noticed?  _ What if he decided not to be Bokuto's setter anymore, what if–– 

"B..Bokuto-saa~ _ aahn _ ..." 

Akaashi's arms circled around his back, clinging to him so tightly he could barely breathe. The face that pressed into his shoulder was burning to the touch. Bokuto could feel Akaashi's hot breath against his neck, raising goosebumps all down his back and arms.

_ Goodbye world. _

"A-are you o––"

"Don't  _ stop," _ Akaashi  _ whimpered _ , wings fluttering and twitchy against his hands, and Bokuto's brain flat-lined.

_ Don't stop. Don't stop. _ Bokuto swallowed thickly, shifting his hips to attempt to shift the pressure of his shorts off his dick. The sound muffled into his shoulder, when he tentatively moved his fingers, went straight south.  _ Almost done. _ Axillaries were small. Fragile, easy to replace, and soft to the touch. Several of them came loose with barely more than a brush of his hand through them. It took several passes to sift the older feathers out, every graze of his fingers against the delicate skin underneath making Akaashi voice an increasingly louder whine.

The setter's squirming was putting him  _ way _ too close to Bokuto's dick for comfort. It was also unbearably  _ hot, _ which was the absolute opposite of good, at the moment–– 

Bokuto shifted the bare centimeter left between feather and skin, clasping his palms over Akaashi's ribs to bodily move him away from the danger zone. Akaashi made a sound of protest that quickly became throaty and  _ loud _ when his weight forced Bokuto's fingers to dig into his skin, nails pressing into the hyper-sensitive skin where feather became skin.  _ "B-Bokuto!" _ He cried out, shocked, and the almost-panic in his voice made Bokuto's head reflexively snap up, catching Akaashi's eyes for the first time since he had moved. 

His eyebrows were threaded together, face twisted tightly into something bordering distress. Akaashi's entire face and throat was flushed a vivid red Bokuto could barely register as possible on him, eyes glazed and hazy with–– 

Akaashi threw his head back, panting roughly, and  _ spasmed _ in Bokuto's grip. 

Bokuto was. Not functioning.

"D-Did you, did you just––?!"

His heart was pounding wildly. Everywhere felt hot, scalding from the tips of his toes to the ends of his fingers still buried in twitching feathers and overheated skin. If his shorts were uncomfortable before, they were  _ painful _ now. Akaashi's head slowly lolled back forward, lips trembling where they parted around a tiny moan of his name. It instantly sent a flash of heat down his spine, unbidden and quick as lightning.

Akaashi's wings fell limply behind him, slumping bonelessly around either side of the bench just as the rest of him collapsed into Bokuto.

"Akaashi?!"

"Just... a moment..." He managed, his voice sounding exhausted even muffled into Bokuto's chest. "I've never..."

It was remarkably easier to pretend he wasn't horny out of his mind with an armful of possibly-hurt best friend. "Hey, hey," Bokuto flailed, anxiously trying to prop his setter up, "Are you okay? Akaashi, blink twice if––"

"I had an orgasm, Bokuto-san, not an aneurysm."

_ What is an aneurysm collided, _ lightning speed, with  _ I just gave Akaashi an orgasm. _

Oh, hello again boner. Good to see you're still in town.

"O– okay," Bokuto squeaked. "Are you– mad? About it?"

Akaashi's eyes were always dark. Like ink, or black tea, or untouched coffee. Endlessly deep and dark and currently very focused on Bokuto with an intent that was making him sweat.

"Not at all," He said. Bokuto was frozen, unable to even breathe as the most beautiful person alive pressed him down against the bench, wings sweeping forward to cage him in that same inky depth of his stare. "In fact, I think I'd like another now, if you wouldn't mind  _ helping me _ a bit more, Bokuto-san."

**Author's Note:**

> Happy very very late full moon, the sun is rising outside my window and I've been working on this for a steady 3-4 days straight by accident lmfao. 
> 
> my wing kink is out of control. have almost too much fluff for this account. 
> 
> Title is from the kpop song Move! I abruptly got very into that videos choreography with no warning. That and a kalimba cover of big fish and begonia is mostly what i listened to while writing this whoop
> 
> see yall next time, thx for coming sajhdbfdn im going to bed now ✌️🎉


End file.
